


your name, my mind

by weepies



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:17:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: Every boy’s heart skipped a beat sometimes, right?





	your name, my mind

How far down had he buried these feelings? 

Because he suddenly feels them on the verge of disposal, on the tip of his tongue. Prompted by the touch of a calloused hand, inspired by the friend he holds dearest. _Friend._ Such a meek word for the power it holds. For the strength it animates.

Richie thinks he could find the meaning of life in Eddie’s eyes.

But he will never tell. Not even to Bill or Stanley, or the brown leather journal he keeps beneath his pillow. The one he longs to fill with messy scrawl of puppy love, yet he only writes of video games and other boyish things.

Boys are supposed to like video games. Like_ Street Fighter_. Richie is the best of the best when it comes to that game, and he truly loves it like boys are supposed to; on weekends, he plays with local boys who also hang around the arcade. Sometimes they are taller than him, or smaller, or the same size, but Richie doesn’t find he has a preference. A pretty boy is just that, and company is company if they are willing to spend time with Richie. 

It seems foolish now, for Richie to have wondered why his heart would skip a beat at the glance of a cute boy in the grade above. Though part of Richie tricked himself into thinking every boy got like that. 

Every boy’s heart skipped a beat sometimes, right?

But then why does this seem different? Why is Richie put on the spot in the middle of the arcade? When he is fidgeting with a game token he spent his allowance on?

Why is he called a slur he has only seen in books? Because that’s what _it_ is—a made up story to make people _feel_. People like _that_ aren’t real. They are the villains of plot, the monsters of fiction. 

People like _Emily_ are real. The girl who sits in front of Richie in English class. She has icy blonde hair and her perfume smells sickly sweet, like artificial bubblegum. Richie thinks he could learn to love that scent. Emily is a nice girl, with thin lips and a pretty smile. Any boy would be lucky to have her. _Richie_ would be lucky. She could help him find himself, because surely he is just lost. Richie is lost and confused, and Emily is _there._ She grins at him between class periods, when she is packing up her things in her backpack. She laughs at his jokes, even though Eddie constantly tells Richie he is not funny.

_Eddie._

The name sends a chill down Richie’s spine. His hand freezes, its grip on the pocketknife faltering. He stares at what he has done, and wonders if other boys hyper-focus on their best friend when they are thinking of the girl they like. 

There is part of Richie that wants to take the knife to his own wrist. But he doesn’t do that. He just squeezes its handle so tightly between his fingers, like it is the answer to all his problems, and maybe it could be if he would just let it.

The initials _R+E_ are now forever carved into Derry’s famous Kissing Bridge, and Richie tells himself the E is for Emily.

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil something. feeling lots of feelings. very feeling currently


End file.
